


helpless night

by thunderylee



Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-01
Updated: 2009-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-31 05:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12675369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Koyama’s sleep is compromised by images of his leader being a boss.





	helpless night

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

It wasn’t difficult to pretend, since it’s real.

It’s the fifth night in a row that Koyama wakes in a cold sweat, hard as a rock with his mind racing. Silence surrounds him but the bass thumps in his head, a remix of the two songs that makes his body ache with more than pain.

His shirt has fallen open and his hand makes contact with his own damp skin, surprising himself with the tingle that courses through him. It doesn’t feel like his hand, the fingers that trail along his rib cage and up to where a nipple perks in interest. He hisses as he brushes past it, reacting like it’s a touch from someone else.

It’s obvious who it is, who he pretends is there with him. Who he dreams about night after night. He wishes he would have never agreed to screen the final edit at all; certainly Yamapi doesn’t need his opinion. He’s just a lowly lit major, he doesn’t know anything about computer graphics and cinematography. If he had his way, there would have been no girls and much less clothing.

Then again, it’s because of the girls that he has these reoccurring “visions,” not because they’re hot but because he _wants to be them_. The first one who ran his hands all over Yamapi’s chest, feeling his pecs and abs and going _down_ ; the one on her knees who slid her hands down Yamapi’s thighs; and finally the one who led him by the tie and was shoved by the small of her back to bend over before him. He would have traded places with any of them in a heartbeat.

Preferably the last one. Koyama never pegged himself as a sub, but the thought of being bent over by Yamapi is basically what’s kept him from sleeping through the night for almost a week. Even when he indulges, like now, he’s only satisfied until the next time he closes his eyes.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do when they actually go back to work _together_.

It will be difficult to keep from pulling Yamapi into a closet, that’s for sure. He’s always admired his leader’s natural beauty, his constant grace and big heart, his dedication and selfless guidance. But now he’s seen another side of him, the one who is _in control_ and gets what he wants. It may just be following directions in front of a camera, but in Koyama’s imagination it’s very real.

He can feel it, Yamapi’s breath on the back of his neck as he approaches Koyama from behind, slowly and quietly. His hands make contact first, tracing the sharp angles of his hips before gripping firmly to keep him still. The faintest graze of soft, thick lips along his shoulder, a calming reminder.

Like Koyama could forget. All at once he remembers the times Yamapi has really been behind him, for whatever reason, and now he thinks that it could never happen again or he might just come in his pants from the anticipation. He twists his fingers in the sheets but still he feels Yamapi’s touch on his hips, knowing that he’s not really there, giving in to the temptation to pretend he is.

Yamapi’s ghost hands continue down and Koyama automatically rolls his body up to greet them. Now he feels Yamapi’s weight against him, chest to back and face to neck, kissing behind his ear with a small groan that Koyama feels in his toes. He can’t hold back anymore and the words spill out, “ _please_ ,” “ _more_ ,” “ _Tomohisa_ ,” and approving fingers wrap around his aching length and squeeze.

The walls could shake with the force of Koyama’s moan, turning to bite his pillow after the fact. If his mom has heard him, she hasn’t let on, but he doesn’t want to give her a reason. Besides, he can imagine it’s Yamapi’s tie, hand, _something_ to gag him and dominate him even more while he’s being manhandled.

A strong hand strokes him firmly, nowhere near fast enough to get him off but Yamapi would probably want him to whine, beg a little, work for it as he grows hard against Koyama’s ass. Right where he should be. Koyama pushes back with the same force that he pushes forward and he can almost hear Yamapi’s breath hitch, feel the tightening of his free hand on Koyama’s hip to yank him closer and rock against him.

Koyama’s tossing and turning now, ending up on his stomach with his face pushed in the pillow to muffle his screams when Yamapi inevitably snatches his hand away and forces him to bend. It’s hotter than it should be, being so far away with his head by his knees, unable to see Yamapi’s face or feel his breath or hear his voice.

His pants drop to the floor and a gentle palm rubs the cheek of his ass, comfortingly. Koyama wonders if Yamapi would spank him and isn’t sure if he should, secretly wants him to and jumps when it happens, the loud _crack_ echoing through Koyama’s head long after the pain numbs to a tingle. He hears Yamapi chuckle and shivers at the sound, the blood rushing to his head as his legs are spread and fingers linger at the base of his spine.

The thought should terrify him, Yamapi putting something that big in somewhere so small, but he’s not shaking out of fear when he feels a cool, slick finger between his cheeks. Yamapi hisses a few soothing words and reaches for Koyama’s arm, which flexes involuntarily under his touch as he’s gently urged back up and into Yamapi’s warm embrace. They’re skin to skin and Koyama imagines Yamapi’s chiseled chest, that perfect body right behind him, ready to unite with him.

His weight is evened out now and Koyama can think more clearly, rocking back against the intrusion and forward into the hand that returns to his impossibly hard erection. Koyama cries out again and the pillow can’t hide it this time; his poor mother in the next room, she has to know what her son is doing. His cat is even pawing at the door, concerned.

But none of that matters. Right now all that matters is Yamapi inside him, thrusting into him and filling him up, soft gasps spilling from his lips as he firmly clutches onto Koyama. Yamapi fucks him so hard that he can taste it, sweat flying off of his body with the force of it. He ends up on his knees but Yamapi’s right there, not missing a beat, the rhythm of their songs mashed together into one throbbing bassline.

Fingers around him, squeezing from base to tip, thumbing the head just the way he likes and bringing him to the edge of his sanity. “ _Tomohisa_ ,” and his world goes white, then black, his damp sheets more of a hindrance than a comfort as he reluctantly comes to.

Because he’s the only one in them.

It’s his own breathing that sounds in the otherwise silent room, his own gasps for air as he struggles to push himself up enough to reach for his tissues. He’s cold and sticky and _alone_ , cleaning up the best he can and snuggling under his blankets until only the top of his head can be seen.

He’s not exactly sure what he’s hiding from, but it feels safe enough to lull him back to a dreamless sleep.

~bonus~

Across town, a harsh grunt escapes with Yamapi’s quickening breathing and his body jerks in bed. His fingers close weakly around a fistful of sheets as his entire subconscious is devoted to making his eldest bandmate writhe around like he did for the camera.

When he wakes up, he’ll just roll his eyes and blame his hormones, lamenting his brain that refuses to remember his dreams, even the good ones.

He hopes that whoever it is feels the same way and confronts him soon, if only so he can stop changing his sheets daily.


End file.
